The Night Before Tomorrow
by PrincessAlica
Summary: Now Complete: THis story begins the moment Gone With the Wind Ends. It offers a chance for Rhett and Scarlett to heal, and a chance to find somehting new. Book centric, not movie- centric! Thanks for reading!
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Book centric- not movie centric. This starts out sad, not lying, and it stays sad for quiet a while, but there is hope. It's a little happier than my last two pieces. No I am not a depressed person, I am actually a very upbeat person, but Rhett and Scarlett were not happy people. Just read it and see what you think. And I also wanted to mention that in the book Rhett does not leave in the mist, he goes up stairs to bed, and you need to know this for it to make sense.**

The Night Before Tomorrow

But tomorrow would not be soon enough. Putting it off until tomorrow was of no benefit to her. He was leaving in the morning, and already the dullness was being replaced by a searing pain. The shock had faded, leaving the blinding agony behind.

She had nothing. She had ruined all of it, everything. All because she had not understood, nor even really tried to understand who he was or why he had done everything he had for her.

She choked back a sob. She loved him. She really loved him, but his love had worn out. How did love wear out? Wasn't love supposed to be the one thing that would last forever? How unfair the world seemed, how dark and cold. She loved him and she would never even get to know what it felt like to be held by him and to be in love, to spend the night in his arms. It was just another thing added to the list of the difficulties that her life had been littered with. But she knew that she would survive.

But wait, there was still hope, a single spark of hope that glowed brightly, stunning her with its brilliance. It contrasted so with the darkness that surrounded it. Even if he didn't love her, even if she could never have the love that she had tossed aside so carelessly and impetuously, he was not yet gone from her. He was only up the stairs and down the hall. He was not yet beyond her reach.

She smoothed her skirts and slowly walked up the stairs. Surely he wouldn't turn her away, surely he wouldn't turn down this one simple request. She needed this, desperately needed someone to hold her, someone just to be there, even if just for one night.

She softly knocked on his door, a room she had only been in a scant number of times. The last time she had stood before this door had not been a happy time, not that their marriage had been abounding in happiness. There was no answer to her knock, so she timidly turned the handle and opened the door. He was sitting on the bed as if ready to rise; his eyes drooping and even more weary. "Did you need something, Scarlett?" He asked unemotionally.

She nodded, as a single tear made its descent from her watery eyes. She opened her mouth to speak but was unable to find her voice.

"Well, what is it? Surely we have nothing more left to say to each other." He was clad only in his nightclothes, a worn pair of loose fitting pants that he wore without a shirt. He looked worn out and empty, much older than she remembered.

"Rhett? I need to ask you a favor." she confessed.

"What do you need? I am exhausted, and I need to get some sleep." Even his voice was hollow.

Summoning all of her courage, she began, "Please, just for tonight, can you hold me in your arms? I know I was horrible, and I'm not asking for anything else. But please, please, just for tonight, I need to be held. I need someone to hold me. I'm terrified, and I'm lonely. And I just lost the only friend I've ever really had. And I've lost you too. But for tonight, can you let me pretend? Can I please sleep in here with you?" She faltered, not knowing how she could continue.

He stared at her for a moment, as if considering her proposition. "You're not hoping for marital intimacy, are you?"

She shook her head nervously, her eyes downcast.

"You understand that it's just for tonight?"

"Yes, Rhett. I understand. That's all I ask. Just tonight in your arms." She said as another tear slipped past her guard.

"All right, come on." He told her.

"But I need to get changed." She protested, motioning towards the door.

"I think I can still manage, even in my old age." There was a hint of his old self peeking through, as if it were one of the few relics of a former life that had been missed in the fire that had ravenously engulfed his soul, leaving only a hollow charred shell like the ones littering the country-side after Sherman's savage march.

He rose from the bed and undid the snaps and buttons and clasps and lacings, until Scarlett was standing in her chemise and nothing else. She shivered from the cool air that blew through the thin material covering her.

Rhett returned to his bed, and Scarlett climbed in after him. She nestled herself against him, laying her head on his chest. He wrapped one arm around her loosely. She closed her eyes and savored the moment, the smell of his skin and the weight of his arm around her, shielding her from the world. She sighed as the memories of the day assaulted her, the rushed trip from Marietta, the expression on Rhett's face at the train station, the frenzied drive to the Wilkes. More tears began seeping from her eyes as she remembered Melanie and the unselfishness of her love that had used her last breaths to try and save someone else.

Through her tears, she whispered softly to Rhett. "Thank you." Thinking that he wouldn't hear her.

"What for Scarlett?" He asked her, surprised by the gratefulness in her voice.

She gasped softly at his voice, thinking that he would already be asleep. "For this. For letting me cry, and holding me, even though you don't feel the same way. I don't know if I could have taken it alone. I don't know how I would have managed." She whispered softly, ashamed at her own weakness. "I'm sure that I've ruined the one thing that I had left. I couldn't even leave you with an illusion of my strength so that you could still respect me."

"Shhhh- Scarlett. It doesn't matter anymore. You are strong. You always manage somehow. Just close your eyes and let the sleep take you. Don't think about anything." He smoothed her hair away from her face as if soothing a child crying in the night, a similarity that he had no desire to ponder.

She sighed again and closed her eyes, listening to the sound of his heart beating, strong and steady as it lulled her to sleep. There was a certain peace and quiet and calm that stole over her features, revealing an innocence that could not be seen at any other time.

She remembered how safe his arms had always been. It was as if for the moment, they were transported back in time, to a time when there were no heart aches and sorrows, to a time when war was a distant talked about thing to come, when the gentle breeze had trickled through the the pale leaves of early spring. She was safe and warm and protected, and she had love and she knew what love was. There was no sorrow or loss, only the safety and security of home.

Tomorrow was waiting, and it would be there all too soon. And so she allowed the memory of the right now consume her thoughts. She stored the feelings of contentment and safety, allowing it to fill her up so that she could have it to draw from in later days as she needed it.

And as she slept, he sat awake although his eyes begged and his mind pleaded with him to sleep. He couldn't sleep now. There was a feeling, so faint, so impossibly dim, that if it hadn't have been for the numbness of his heart, he would never have noticed. But his heart was now such a dismal, barren hole that the dim light of this feeling glittered like a distant star, obvious in the vacant spaces that love had once filled. He breathed in the soft scent of her hair, cherishing the weight of her slack body pressing down on him.

Tomorrow was coming; there was no way to stop it. But with the faintest glimmer of hope he realized that maybe, just maybe, everything was not gone.


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: I am overwhelmed with all of the feedback I got on this. I never intended it to be more than a one shot. And I loved what I had written and I had no desire to sully it with a mediocre sequel. But this feels right, and so if you don't like this chapter, feel free to pretend that this doesn't exist, that The Night Before Tomorrow is and will forever be a one shot. But thank you everyone!_

Sleep had not come quickly, nor did seem to ever come quickly now. His mind was plagued by the mistakes of a lifetime, a myriad of cross purposes gliding across the surface of his existence. She loved him? Now? Now that he stood at the end of his life, searching, looking back to give his life meaning, something more than his grand adventures and his many exploits. He wanted to see something beautiful and lasting, something that would live on past him, something to show that beauty still existed in this world. He needed to find a way to make his heart beat again, to make his heart fell something, and this small glimmer was not enough. There might not be enough beauty left in the entire world to make him feel again.

And of course, after he had spoken those very things to Scarlett, she had parroted word's of Ashley's that sounded eerily similar to his own. With a shudder, he realized that he finally understood Ashley Wilkes. The war had defeated him, the loss of his way of life and his homeland, stripped him of life, leaving only a thin veneer to expose to the world. And likewise, Rhett's world had ended with Bonnie's death. This was a world, a world without her, and without hope, a world that he wanted no part of.

He was an old man now. He could not persuade himself into believing the delusion that he was still young and able to face life's changes. He had stood life's storms many times, but now he had grown brittle. Another storm and he would snap.

Could his heart stand the heartbreak of loving such a callous, cold woman? No matter what she said in dark of the night, what sweet murmurings she had made, a dozen years of time had taught him differently. No one could really change.

Did he really believe that? Did he really believe that a person could not change? Once he had been nothing but a rebel, searching for anything that he could do to prove his father wrong and tarnish the family name. Had he changed? In his heart he knew that he had, that he had grown and matured. There was still a part of that boy inside of him, yes, but he was no longer that child. And he also had to admit that he had changed when he saw Scarlett O'Hara on that first day and even more that night of the Bazaar. And his vow of never marrying had eventually crumbled against the onslaught of her charms, though she had been unaware of there effect upon him.

It was their pride that had done this -- their hubris. Their human pride had been their destruction, as it was the destruction of all who considered themselves to be great. There had been times when they both had loved each other, but they had both hidden behind sarcastic comments and snide slings or an imagined love of someone else. At the time, she hadn't even realized what the feeling was. They had hidden it all so well. And their pride in the end could be blamed for everything else that had happened: Scarlett's fall, Bonnie's death, all of it. If they had either been truthful the morning after their night of passion, or on that day on the stairs, it wouldn't have happened. And he also knew that she had tried, if it hadn't been for his insults and insinutaions. And if he had not allowed his wounded pride to pet Bonnie so, to give her no boundaries or restrictions, she wouldn't have made that jump.

He was weary-- weary of the fighting, of the games, backbiting, and recriminations. He was exhausted from the years of hiding his love. And now, now that she claimed to possess love for him, now that she had finally discovered that she had loved him for years, his had worn out. His had been exhausted in the days after the miscarriage, just as she claimed that hers had begun to take flight. But he couldn't pretend any longer, he couldn't do this. He couldn't sit across the table from her now pretending to love her, pretending that he felt anything for anyone any longer. There was no emotion left inside of him.

But that faint spark still called out to him, calling at him to take back his words and stay and fight for his love. Crying out that the love was not worn out, that true love could not wear out. His love for her was a dim ember that had become buried underneath the ashes of the tragedy of their life together, but it had not been extinguished, weak though it was. His heart called out weakly that this ember could blaze again, that all was not lost. This faint voice cried relentlessly that there was still hope, there was still a chance. And even as he recognized this ember, he felt it slowly warming, the intensity of brightness and warmth steadily increasing.

But he was afraid. His heart was still to raw, too bruised and tattered from death and battles. He was afraid of what would happen if Scarlett's love wanned or if she turned back to Ashley. His heart could not take it, and he knew that if that happened that he would have been better off walking away, or taking his own life.

And his body was weary, fatigued, and exhausted. He could not continue with the life he was living. It would kill him, and at the rate he was going, it would not take long. His mind was growing numb, and his eyes finally slipping shut only as the early morning sun began cutting through the mist and haze outside the window. And then the sleep claimed him.

* * *

The sun spilling into the window, spilling across the bed, roused Scarlett from her slumber. She blinked slowly in confusion, for this room was unfamiliar to her. It was conversely known and yet unknown, as if her mind should be able to identify its location from the deep recesses of her memory. She could have been anywhere, the last ten years could have been nothing but a horrific nightmare. But even as she pondered that, she realized that her body was draped over another body.

The body was not altogether familiar either, but as her hand hesitantly traced a jagged scar across the abdomen, she knew without question. Although his body had changed since the last time that he had held her, that they had shared a night together, she knew that she was in Rhett's arms. And then the memory of last night slowly trickled into her mind, bringing awareness and hesitancy. She had been so weak, so helpless, everything that she prided herself that she was not. She had begged for him to hold her, and she was ashamed of herself. She was a weakling and a fool.

But neither could she extract herself from his arms. She was finally safe, finally home, and she could not yet give it away. She had finally found her home, here was her home, here in his arms. And now, now that she had just barely found it, she was going to lose it. She had already lost it. She would only ever have last night, one night where she was held through the night in the arms of the man that she love -- a contentment that was not meant to last, but would evaporate with the dawn's first rays, never to return. It wasn't enough; it never would be enough. She wasn't satisfied with just one night, but she also knew that having that one night was better than never having it. And so she clung to him without any other thought.

She closed her eyes again, relishing the moments that she had. She didn't have the luxury to take anything for granted; this had to fill up the need for a lifetime. These were the last moments that she could hold on to, and so with unrelenting determination she would. And she used his chest as her pillow and curled up around him, holding on to the moment for dear life. This was all that was left.

She kissed the scar that was so close to her, and then allowed sleep to reclaim her, allowing the first peaceful sleep in years to welcome her back. When he awoke, she would let him go. But for now, she needed to hold on to this moment as long as she could. For now, she would press all of the thoughts that she had reserved for tomorrow from her mind. After all, couldn't tomorrow wait?


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: This silly thing was supposed to only be a one shot, but here it is, the third chapter, which could be the end, but with this silly thing, I honestly don't know. I told you I wouldn't post it if I didn't think it was a match for the prior chapters, but I feel really good about this one. I don't know how this came so quickly, but I did spend a lot of time mulling this over, and again this is the second attempt at this chapter, the first version is in the recycling bin next to the first version of the second chapter._

And now tomorrow was here. The sun had burned away the misty haze of the night, and there was no way to deny that it was not the call of the nightingale outside the window. He rose slowly from the bed, liberating his limbs from hers. He felt as if every muscle was protesting, every part of him declaring that he had lived every moment of the years that had slipped past him. He wasn't a young man any longer. He couldn't deny it now.

He glanced back at his bed that was still bathed in a golden pool of sunlight, where Scarlett lay nestled under the covers, curled up like a cat. All traces of worry and sadness disappeared as she slept. In that moment, she looked no older than she had that day a dozen years before. This was the side of her that no one else got to see, that no one even realized was there. She was vulnerable. She still could be hurt. And that faint voice inside of him pleaded with him to stay and keep her safe. That she still needed his protection as she had long ago driving out to the mills while he was wishing that the child that she carried was his.

But even as he watched her, she began to stir. Her eyes squinted against the light as she turned her head away from the interference to her slumber, but the damage had already been done. And slowly she stretched in a very feline manner, and her eyes fluttered open, blinking against the bright sunlight. Then she began scanning the room with her brilliant emerald eyes, searching for him, he was certain. When they settled upon him, there was strange sense of tension in the air, as if she was waiting to see what he would say.

He didn't know what to say. He didn't know how he could make anything right any longer. He had not been blameless in the problems of their marriage. He was just as guilty as she was, if not more so. Finally, she broke the silence, "Thank you, Rhett. I don't know how I would have survived last night if it weren't for you."

There was a moment of awkward silence, as those words accused him, although she hadn't intended it that way. Half of her problems from last night, were that she had confessed her love, and he had turned her away. Just when she was beaten, he had driven in the final blow. He stared at her, more unsure of himself than he remembered being in his life.

"I missed you." She said softly.

How was she finding this courage to be so brave, so open and honest? She had always been brave, always so courageous, always so much more than he concerning matters of the heart. He had certainly never offered himself up like this, revealing all of the cards in the open manner she was now employing. "Scarlett..."

She shook her head, holding a hand up to stop him from interrupting her. "No, I want to tell you that I miss having you as my friend. You are the only person who has really ever understood me. You are my only friend now, and I don't want to lose that completely. If I promise not to press you – to only be a friend and nothing more, would it make it easier on you? Would you come back more often to spend time with a friend, rather than if it was merely an obligation to an unwanted wife?" There was sincere concern in her eyes and an unspoken pleading. She was offering him an olive branch, truly trying to repair some of the damage that had been done in the course of their marriage.

"Yes, Scarlett. I missed that part of our relationship too." There was a sadness in his eyes that was flickering against the emptiness, as if emotions were being slowly being reborn.

"Rhett, I hate to ask anything else of you. You've already done much more than I deserved. But could you stay long enough to help me explain to the children about Melly. She was more of a mother to them than I ever was. And they love you too." She paused, leaving him a chance to refuse. "But if you have to leave, then I will understand." It fanned that flicker of feeling to see her humbling herself like this, she was trying more then she had ever tried before.

There was something about the way that she was asking, an innocence to her words that clenched his heart. Even if he no longer loved Scarlett, the children didn't deserve to be punished for their parents failures. And strangely, she was acting so submissive that it didn't set well with him. He had never intended to break her, only to gentle her, refine her. "Of course I will. I wouldn't abandon them."

"But you are still going, aren't you?" There was echo of hope in her voice, as if she thought that he might still change his mind. But she still seemed to know that it wasn't to be.

"Yes, Scarlett, I'm still leaving. I'm not trying to hurt you or punish you or castigate you." He didn't want her to blame herself for all of this, neither of them could be blameless. "But I have to leave. If I stay, it's going to kill me. This house, these memories, my mistakes, they all are destroying me. I have to get away from here. I have to try and find something that is greater than myself, than this existence that I am living right now. I need to find a meaning for my life, a reason for my being. I need a reason to live, a reason to go on. I can't just stay here and rot and putrefy until there is nothing left of me." His tone was brittle, although his voice was soft.

"When will you come back?" She asked, almost afraid of his answer, her eyes begging that it would be soon.

"I don't know yet. I honestly just don't know." He whispered softly.

"Can't you at least stay a few more days to pay your respects to Melly? You always told me what a great lady she was." Scarlett wanted desperately for him to stay. She wanted him to be there for her to lean on through the funeral. But she also knew that he wouldn't do it.

"I can't, Scarlett. I can't face it, just as I couldn't face it as she was dying. When she left, she took something with her. And I just am not yet ready to face that she is really gone." He looked up at Scarlett, "I know that wasn't what you were hoping to here."

"No, it wasn't. But I will manage somehow. I always have." She pursed her lips together for a moment. "Just this time I won't have Melanie or you."

"You'll always have me, Scarlett. I will be back sometime, when some of the ashes have cleared away, when the stench of my life burning before my eyes has faded. Then I will find my way back here." He studied her reaction, noticing for the first time how the years and life had changed her face. There were faint lines etched into the skin, lines that had not been there two years ago. The hands of time had not passed her by.

She nodded, although she looked like she was fighting against the threat of tears. She stared at him for a moment, as if memorizing his face, and then she finally said, "If you are lucky, I'll still be here waiting for you." There was a smile on her face, a jesting in her voice, that spark of life that had always drawn him back to her had returned for the moment, as if to tempt him back.

He chuckled softly, "But only if I'm lucky?"

Then he eliminated the space between them and took her into his arms. She still fit so perfectly within his embrace that it was difficult to imagine that they had not been designed solely for one other. He placed a soft kiss on her forehead, as gentle as the brush of butterfly wings, as she bent her head and closed her eyes tightly to subdue the already forming tears. But still a single tear escaped sliding across her skin until it fell away and disappeared.

"I love you, Rhett." She whispered so softly, not intending for him to hear. "I was a fool, and now I've lost you. But it won't stop me from loving you."

Despite the faintness of her whisperings, he still heard her. But these words did not agitate him. This was not a desperate plea. She was not pushing him to love her back. She was letting him go, setting him free. The words went straight to his heart, a gentle caress infinitely more healing than any balm ever created. She loved him enough to let him go. That was genuine love. She loved him enough to not fight him, but instead fight for him. And he knew that someday, when the wounds had healed, he would return here.

And he knew that their story wasn't over.


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's note: This chapter has taken me a while to write, and in the process has undergone many changes. The first two versions included moments of Scarlett's time as well as Rhett's but then eventually I had to pull out all of the Scarlett observations and allow Rhett the time to say what he needed. So yes this is at least the third version of this chapter. I think this piece is officially over being a one shot, as I already have several more chapters swirling around. But again, it might take time, because I won't post them until I know in my gut that they are what they are supposed to be. Thanks for all of the review! I appreciate everyone of them. Special thanks to Desiree and Corrin!  
_

The mist churned and swirled around him, completely obscuring the world from his sight with its elusive, vaporous tentacles. Within this cloudy haze, the world no longer existed outside of himself. He was trapped inside his mind with nothing but the haunting memories of the tragedies of his life. Images of the past two and a half years flashed before his eyes : images of watching Melanie's funeral from the shelter of a tree unable to face standing amidst the other mourners, of Scarlett tumbling down the stairs while he watched unable to save her or their child, and worst of all the images of Bonnie's death and all the heartbreak that followed. He himself felt as he were falling, falling precipitously and there was no end in sight. There was nothing to hold on to, there was nothing solid or corporeal. It was cold -- terrifyingly cold – mind-numbingly cold. A cold that seeped through his clothes and penetrated into his bones. And it was dark, so dark that it felt like he was the lone survivor of this life, trapped in a darkness, blacker than the blackest night. It was darker then the darkest night at sea when he had been running the blockades during the war. This was a different kind of darkness. This darkness had no thrill, no promise of anything other than more heartbreak and ruin. This darkness could suffocate and paralyze him – it already had been strangling him with its ever-tightening hold. This darkness was something that he could not extinguish or escape. There was no way out.

He needed light; he needed warmth. He needed something, anything -- a lifeline to pull him from this abysmal abyss. There had to be something left, some reason for him to still be alive. There must be a reason that he had not ended his life by his own hand, even as the darkness of grief and guilt consumed him. There had to be more – more than this hell of death and destruction and grief and self-blame. But there was more.

In the darkness that faint glowing ember in his heart expanded, sharing its glow and heat with him. It shimmered at him extending its radiance, offering hope and life. It would sustain him, for the moment at least. It was more than it had been, each day it seemed to glow a little more brightly, allowing his heart to feel a little more. This warmth, this faint luminescence would guide him through the dark maze that he had to traverse to find his heart whole and intact once more. This was the first shard of his heart to be recovered. Life may come again.

And he thought of her: his wife, his tormentor, his heart's desire, his greatest foe, and he remembered the soft sounds as she tried to hide her tears from him, as she tried to be strong and let him go. She was soft in his arms, her warm breath caressing his skin. And for a moment he allowed himself to dwell on the feeling of holding her in his arms, the memory of the one night that he had held her, knowing that she loved him. There was so much about her that he missed -- that he would always miss without her presence in his life.

But there were parts of her that he had never taken the time to discover or analyze. And now that he had the time to, he did. He understood that it would reveal more faults of his own, but it was still less painful than the hell he was writhing in. He had never really understood how sharply the time after the war had marked her. In the span of time from when he had left her on the road to Rough and Ready to the time when she visited his jail cell, she had changed in ways that he had not even begun to see, much less acknowledge. He hadn't seen the desperation for all that it was, nor the depth or severity of it. He hadn't known how deeply the wounds had penetrated into her heart and her soul. The walls she built had become her refuge.

When she arrived at the jail in a dress made of her mothers curtains, she was no longer the spoiled belle that lived only to be adored and petted by a crowd of beaus at her beckon call. Gone were the days of an ignorant child gliding through a life filled with pampering and parties. Those times were no more, they had disappeared forever with the curling smoke that had hung over the distant fields of Pennsylvania and with the twilight of that April day in Virginia when the Confederacy had officially died. There was a tangible fear engulfing her, and a predatory hunger in her eyes, that had been visible once he had looked past her charming words and flirtations. She was grasping and desperate and more terrified than he had been in the entire span of his life.

Nothing in his life up to that point had given him a gage with which he could even begin to comprehend. She had been bred and raised to be taken care, born into a life of abundance and security, which had been swept away with the ashes of the South churning through the sky. Those days, that desperation and terror, had hardened her from the naive, vain child she had been into a cold granite monument enshrining her as a memorial to those who had survived those dark days, a testament of her endurance and of the adversity that she was staggering under. She had held that stone barrier around her heart, not allowing any thing inside its protective circle. And now for the first time, he had life experiences that made it possible for him to finally empathize with her plight in those desperate times.

Time had not been able to wash away the wounds that poverty, hunger, and fear had inflicted upon her soul, they were etched into the very essence of who she had become. A part of her was still trying to survive and escape from the nightmare that she had been unwillingly thrust into. She still hadn't escaped from that nightmare, even as she hid behind her possessions and wealth with which he had showered her. In his mind he could hear her crying in the night; in his ignorance he had assumed that by providing her with material possessions that he could erase the damage that had been done. He saw now as he tried to pull away from the stifling darkness, that he had never even begun to tap into the hurts and insecurities that plagued her. He had never even thought to try. And now he was left trying to pull himself out of the same state of hopelessness and desolation.

He had never understood her fixation with Ashley Wilkes, but in truth perhaps she never really had either. She had never been one who was prone to analyze her motivations or thoughts or actions. And by the end of the War, it had become the only thing left from her former days that she had been able to save – the last vestige of life before the war had touched her. She had furtively clung to it as an escape from the barren wasteland that had become her existence. It had remained as her only glimmer of beauty and hope, which is what he was now searching for. He knew that she didn't even really see Ashley as he was now. She couldn't see past the ivory carved image of a Grecian God that dazzled her eyes in the sun-dappled light filtering through the trees of her memory of days gone by to the broken man who had returned from the battlefield as worn and tarnished as a bronze statue of antiquity, as an empty hull of a shipwrecked vessel.

He understood her fascination now.

And now that he understood, the glowing ember began to ignite and kindle itself into a small, flickering flame. Given time, that flame would grow and burn through the pain and rubble, giving him a second chance at life and at love.

* * *

He stood on a stone balcony, staring out at the the brackish water that the Venetian lido trapped in the lagoon. He had heard stories of this city at its peak of culture and vitality, but all that had changed nearly a century before when Venice had lost its sovereignty. This city was like him. It had once been a place of life and promise, flourishing and drawing life and passion to it. Yet wars and time had stolen its beauty, leaving it in a state of erosion and disrepair. The buildings were crumbling, some of them beginning to tilt to one side or the other as if welcoming the stagnant water as its tomb, ready to embrace its murky depths as a lover. It was a city suspended above the sea on timbers that had been its support for hundreds of years, but how long could the poles continue to hold it up? Even as he made his way across the water at the time of his arrival, he had noted that some of the timbers directing the nautical traffic were rotting away-- as some poles now only held a few feet of their former companions in line. It was suspended as he was between life and death, between the present and the past. Did he have it inside him to continue on? But he already knew that he did.

Life was slowly seeping back into the city, sliding over the putrescent waters and under the numerous bridges. And life was seeping back into him as well.

Hidden away from the world, Venice hid priceless treasures within its historic buildings. But more than that, Rhett was able to witness as the people of the city emerged from the chrysalis of poverty and destruction and began to rebuild. As excursionists began flocking to the lido, soon they would rediscover this amazing city of canals and Carnivale. And the full life and vitality of Venice would be reborn. There was hope for him as well.

And as he stood staring out into the dark morning sky, a faint glow appeared on the horizon. He watched as the sun began to rise in the East, casting pale pink rays onto to the silent waters, painting them gently with its delicate kiss, masking the ugliness and the stench of reality. The light danced through the misty haze that hung just above the waters surface, sending light splintering into a thousand refracted rays – a faint hint of a rainbow shimmering over the canals. In that instant, the beauty of the scene before him breathed new life into his heart and fresh breath into his lungs. There was more to this life than toil and hardship. Life in itself had its own unique beauty. And with that beauty and that realization came a gentle wind that blew through the wreckage of his life, causing the ashes to swirl up to dissipate into oblivion.

His heart was still not whole. His wounds had not all healed, but her love and his love for her was like a salve that was beginning to heal the infection that had been festering since the day that Bonnie had died, that had been emerging even from the time that Scarlett had first turned him from her bed. This was a new beginning as he recognized that love doesn't wear out. It only hides when buried amidst the ashes as his had done. There was a new hope for life kindled in his soul, readying himself to find his way back to her.


	5. Chapter 5

There is no way to undo the mistakes of the past. The pain and the hurt and the anger do not disappear simply at the words "I'm sorry" or "I love you." Life was not as simple or clear cut as that. I'm sorry could not erase the injuries incurred from a decade of insults. I love you is not a panacea. But even so, those two simple statements were the beginning steps to reconciliation and forgiveness and dare they hope – love.

He stood on the deck of a small ship, the spray of the water assaulting him with its frigid touch. But the cold air was blowing away what the beauty that he had spent months immersing himself in had not. There had been days, days when the aching seemed to overtake him, days when he longed to throw away everything. But that small spark had grown steadily until it was a small blaze deep inside his heart burning away the chaff of a lifetime.

Those moments when his numb heart began to thaw had been as painful it seemed in those first moments as the losses themselves had been, as his heart first tingled with the emotion as a limb tingles after falling asleep. Then the emotions bubbled up within him, leaving him raw and wounded and overwhelmed. Without the soothing numbness he had to learn to manage the pain that came with the return of feeling that engulfed his heart. This was not a task to be accomplished in the presence of anyone he loved. The pain was too great and he would only lash out as he had once done. He first needed to grapple his way out of the mire of despair to be able to find the sun and life once more.

And now the glow of love and life was beginning to manifest itself outwardly once more. He was changing, his body tightening and slimming without the overwhelming depression of loss and grief. The grief had not gone, but slowly as the days passed, he was able to remember more than her death. He remembered Bonnie's life. He remembered the feel of her small arms around his neck. He remembered the sense of peace that stole over him as he held her in his arms, rocking her as she fell asleep. And he allowed the precious cherished memories to mingle with the sadness. Another child would never take Bonnie's place, but he was beginning to see hope that the same tragedy would not befall another of his children.

And he remembered the anguish in Scarlett's eyes in those last torturous days spent in Atlanta. The feelings that she had once stirred in him to protect her and cherish her had been kindled anew in the deep recesses of his heart. She needed him; she needed him to return and chase away the demons of her past and soothe away the memories of the nightmares. And more than that, he needed her as well. That first moment he had seen her, he had been inexplicably drawn to her, more than he remembered ever being drawn to another. It was a magnetism, an attraction so great that it took all of his mental efforts to overcome it even in those first initial moments. But after her accident, he had begun to harder his heart to those feelings, pushing them away into the deepest recesses, trying to smother them beneath his love that had been lavished so abundantly upon his daughter. His life had been so focused, so finitely narrowed when Bonnie had died that he thought that he would never feel anything again. But that hadn't been true.

He thought as he stared out in the water, the seemingly infinite expanse of darkness reaching into the horizon, of the many places that he had traveled to over the course of the last weeks and months. His mind flickered over the view of Mount Pilatus rising from the crystal clear Alpine waters of Lake Lucerne. There was certain peace and majesty that clung to the small town with its ancient tower situated in the middle of the river that fed the lake. He thought of the wounded lion carved in stone, an eternal monument to the sacrifices of the Swiss guard who had been attacked during the French Revolution. And for a moment he contemplated hiring someone to bring the same grandeur to Atlanta, as if the lion would protect his Bonnie and memorialize her as well.

He thought of his brief visit to Versailles, which had once been the palace of the sun King, Louis XIV of France. It was now home to the French government, and one of his business associates had taken him there to the place where the revolution erupted. As he had made his way up the steps carved from stone, he noticed that already time was wearing them away. Each step had been imprinted into the stone as a lasting reminder. The Hall of Mirrors merely reminded him of Scarlett and of the home he had built her, for the taste and decoration were quite comparable.

But now it was time for this journey to end. He needed to find a way to rebuild what had never been fully built in the first place. He needed to love and be loved. And it would all begin, by becoming his wife;s best friend once more.

This wasn't the tomorrow he had expected. He had never in a million years seen what they would do to each other. But this could be a better tomorrow, a tomorrow of hope and possibility. And tomorrow he would be one day closer to home.


	6. Chapter 6

:Author's Note: Sorry for such an extended delay. this past month and especially the past two weeks has been pure insanity in my life. I was building a float for my alma matter's homecoming parade ( on a happy not we won first place with our float), and I was sewing costumes for my kids (The 5 year old's tin man costume won a prize at the city wide contest). But my life should be getting back to normal so I should be updating again soon, as well as on all of my stories. Rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated! :)

The air swirling around him was eerily familiar. In a way it seemed as though no time had passed since that moment months before, when the gas lights along the streets had seemed to float in the churning mist, globs of brightness among the misty, rainy swirls. The mist cloaking the houses and buildings from view as if by an impermeable veil that hung suspended in the air.

But the man himself had changed in the intervening days and weeks. Although nothing would ever entirely heal his wounds or erase the mistakes,he was again, now more than a hollow shell – he was again vitally alive. And now he was prepared to face this awkward reunion with his wife.

The horse's footfalls seemed to echo in the eerie pre-dawn stillness as he slowly made his way from the train station. It was so unusual to see this town so masked in sleep and silence. Five Points lacked its usual bustle, even though Rhett was certain that if the fog had not been concealing all in its cloak, that he would be able to witness the stirrings of the town as it awakened from its silent slumber. His sole companion, other than the horse on which he rode, was the ghost of guilt of the life that he had lived along these streets.

If he had not been so determined on his destination, if he had been any less sure of his pursuit, he might have succumbed to the frightening seclusion of the fog. This was what Scarlett's nightmares were made of. But Scarlett had never been one to analyze or try and pinpoint and internal stimuli or trauma. And Rhett had defeated his own demons, and now he rode purposefully through the mist, allowing it to part before him, as if he were a knight preparing to slay a dragon for his lady fair.

And there were many dragons to slay – tormentors and accusations and a lifetime of regret and mistakes. Each would have be dealt with precisely and completely. Their marriage could not handle the ghost of the past rising up and haunting them. They would have to be laid to rest for all time.

The road disappeared in the mist ahead of him, giving the illusion of a never ending road, a journey that would never find completion. And as he rode, he thought of the days long since past when he first fallen in love with Scarlett O'Hara, as the young widow Hamilton. In his mind, he could see her face, a myriad of emotion dancing across her eyes as they would talk. He remembered the fear burning brightly on her face as they had fled a falling Atlanta. But that fear had not broken her, no he had broken her. He had broken what he thought had been unbreakable. He had shattered what Sherman and the carpetbaggers and countless others had found a task beyond their ability, yet he had succeeded.

And then in his mind, he watched as the events of the night of Melanie's death unfolded anew. Grief and sorrow and years of wrongs had been burned away by the flaming love in her eyes. She was so consumed with her certainty that love could heal all, that with love anything was possible. It had seemed at the time so naïve, so utterly childish and innocent for her of all people to believe in the redemptive power of love. And yet now, he too clung to the same hope, that same flickering flame, that she would forgive the past mistakes and allow their love to renew life around them.

He imagined her, as he was certain that she was, curled soundly asleep in her bed, her lips parting faintly with each breath. He could almost feel that gentle caress, of sweet warm moisture. He missed her, all of her. It was time, not to pick up the broken pieces and try to pretend that it was new. But this love, a love shared and strengthened by the knowledge that it was received and reciprocated, this love would forge a new life together. It would be the beginning of a new time in their lives, a time of security and bliss. It was a new chance for a honeymoon, a chance to right the wrongs of a thousand days of sadness.

And through the mist he saw a dim light in the distance. That light defied all laws of nature and all logic, but it was there, glimmering quietly, beckoning him to come – calling out to him as surely as a sirens song calling out to sailors of long ago. But this light was not a beacon warning of disaster, this was his heart and hers calling out together to be rejoined, to forge a new bond.

He urged the horse toward the light, longing to be home, longing to feel Scarlett's slight weight in his arms. He had always been pulled back to her, inexplicably drawn to her side. He had claimed that she was poison in his blood. But she was not poison, she was an addiction, an unshakable, unquenchable desire to have her by his side. He needed her. It was as simple as that.

Finally he was able to rein the horse in, for he had finally arrived at his destination. All traces of the nightmare mist was irrelevant, as he nimbly lept from his horse as if he were a man half of his years. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, tinged with desire and want. He raced up the long path to the mansion that he had built for her, allowing her her hearts very desire. It was a grotesque monument to the feelings that he had long displayed, and yet never verbalized, and as dense as Scarlett was at times, she had not seen this atrocity of architecture for what it was – a large scale manifestation for his love for her.

With all haste, he sprinted up the stairs to the large doors, elaborately carved and carefully encasing stained glass panels. He was read to face tomorrow.


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's Note: Thank you everyone for all of the reviews! I appreciate and treasure each of them, which is why unless you give an unsigned review, that I responded personally to each one. I am so glad that there are wonderful fans out there that enjoy Gone With the Wind as much as I do! All of you make writing more fun!_

Tha newly discoverd and still very teneuous peace was shattered even as he crossed the threshold and stepped into the shadowy entryway of the monstrosity that his love had built. Unearthly shrieks echoed through the halls, bouncing and refracting like a trilling piccolo on its highest note. He remembered those screams well. Those screams had haunted him, hunted him relentlessly, laying blame at his feet for the times when he had not protected her, for those days when he had put other things ahead of his love for her.

Those were the screams of her nightmares, though magnified and amplified greater than he ever remembered ever hearing Of course there had been many times during the course of their stormy marriage that he had chosen to stay at Belle's rather than face returning home to an empty bed and a shut door or worse yet the unbearable reality of the tragedies that littered the course of their life spent together. There had also been the nights when he had laid in bed and listened to her screams, unable to will himself to rescue her from the dreams.

But he remembered them well. He remembered the first nights of their marriage when he had been there to comfort and protect her and soothe away the icy terror that took hold of her. He remembered not for the affect that those moments had upon her as much as the effect they had upon him. Those present screams reminded him -- as they always had -- of what had happened to her in the times that he had been out of her life. And they also allowed her foothold into his heart a greater hold as he stared down at her, so innocent and needing of his protection and strength. Those were such intimate moments when he cradled her to his chest, silencing her fears with the security of his arms. He had wanted to always keep her there in his arms, so utterly and perfectly safe and content once he had offered his strength.

But he could not stand the screams, the cries that rang franzied in his ears. He was immediately moved to action by them. And his feet fell into a frenzied rhythm as he pounded up the stairs to rescue Scarlett from herself and from her demons as the gas lights of the hallway spilled warm puddles of light onto the staircase below. His mind has not truly considered that in the time that he had been away that she would not be healing as he had been. Somehow in his mind, he had assumed that as he healed, she would as well. For Scarlett's iron will and determination were one of the many things that had made her alluring to him more than any other woman he had ever encountered. But now, now she was truly broken. Each step fell behind him quickly in his haste, although never quickly enough to drive that panic from his heart.

Finally he reached the pinnacle of his climb, and he turned sharply to the sound of her continued cries, his heart constricting with the emotions that were borne of his love for her. His feet flew across the garishly colored, overly plush carpet more rapidly than eagles until finally he was standing in the open doorway leading into her dim sanctuary. A faint lamp glowed in the darkness, casting an eerie glow that illuminated her face that was contorted with grief and terror even as her voice continued to call out in fear and anguish, and yet she still looked as fragile as an expensive porcelin doll.

He wasted no time in rushing to her side. He gathered her up and cradled her in his arms as he crawled into the bed beside her, as he once had been accustomed to doing. She turned into his chest, still unaware of his return, only responding to something that she was able to hold on to in a world that was changing in blurring whirlwind of confusion. Her small white hands clung to his shirt, twisting and tugging as if to more firmly cling to this sense of security, drawing this feeling as a blanket around her. In the dim light that the lamp bathed them in, he could see the tears streaks staining her alabaster skin even as she buried her face in his chest, and he felt the dampness from the tears seeping through the linen of his shirt. And then she stilled and sighed softly, her racing heart slowly returned to a more normal pace. Her breathing grew deep and even, and she softly sighed his name, "Rhett."

And then her body tensed, as if with the admission of his name, she realized that this might be more than just a dream. She pulled away cautiously from the warmth and security that he was offering to her. Her eyelids fluttered open. Wide, startled, green eyes starred up at him with a mixture of amazement and dread. She looked at him with both adoration and astonishment as if her mind and eyes were at war with each other, giving her the illusion that her heart begged to see, but was not allowed.

The silence hung in the air between them, so utterly at odds with the clamor from before that it seemed to be audible in the expansive space of the room that Scarlett had long since claimed as her own. The tension in the room was palpable. This was not the reunion that wither had planned. She stared at him warily, almost as if expecting that he would vanish into thin air, or that she would wake to find that it had only been a dream, a manifestation of her longing.

And then Rhett reached forward and softly brushed his hand across the tear trails, feeling her shiver as goosebumps prickled across her skin. He took his thumb and wiped away a single tear, and then he took that tear and kissed it softly allowing the moisture to settle softly on his lips, tasting the saltiness of her tears. He seemed to savor the gesture, holding on it while she stared at him both bewildered and breathless. Then without taking his eyes off of her, he gathered one of her small hands into his own and pulled it slowly to his lips, where they lingered with a butterfly touch. His lips were warm and moist against the cool, dry skin on her hands. He lowered the hand slowly and looked into her eyes: "Scarlett." He whispered in a voice that was husky and soft as if it had not had much use in recent days.

She tentatively reached out a hand and delicately traced his profile, staring in amazement that this image did not fade under her touch. Her finger started their journey at his hairline, where even in the dim light, the faintest hint of grey could be seen. Then her fingers slid slowly over his brozed skin, down his perfectly chisled nose, until they fell upon his lips, where they lingered. His hand reached for those fingers, even as she started to pull away. But he captured them and kissed each finger tip, as if his lips could not be satisfied until they reaquainted themselves with all of her.

And then finally, something in her seemed to break, as a fraying rope snaps when the tension meets the precise degree. And so certain that he was solid and real not made of whispers of dreams and memories, she crawled into his embrace, allowing his strong arms to encircle her, allowing the warmth that he provided seep its way slowly into her limbs. "Rhett, Rhett. You're here." she cried haltingly over and over, not needing a reply, just needing the feel of him surrounding her with the love and protection that she had taken for granted until it was gone from her. And he bent his dark head over her and brushed a delicate kiss on her brow. "Scarlett, shhh-it's all right. I'm here." And for a moment it was all that they needed.


	8. Chapter 8

And yet he did not sleep as he lay there, holding her in his arms. He relished the warmth of her skin against his, the feeling of her small frame being surrounded by him. The time apart had not been beneficial to her. Even through their clothes, he could feel a thinness that he hadn't known since the end of the war. He could feel the sharp jutting bones that protruded so that they were obvious to him. She felt very frail and slight.

Even in slumber, he could see the faint etchings of the tear streaks that had covered her face in the early hours of the morning. He had been the cause of those tears. Or at very least he had not prevented the tears. She had been fighting this battle with her past for what seemed now to be a lifetime. He could see the inky smudges under her eyes, bearing testament to her ill health.

But he contented himself, even as his mind worried about her health, with the close proximity that he now shared with her. She was in his arms, enjoying a peace that seemed to have eluded her in his absence. Her breath was a delicate caress that he felt through the fabric of his shirt. She was here in his arms. Anything beyond that could be dealt with.

And then she stirred, her breath catching in her throat, as her hands unclenched to free his shirt. He stared down at her as she struggled to open her matted eyes. "Rhett?" she whispered in unbelief as she blinked rapidly, trying to dispel the holds of sleep and Morpheus from her mind.

"Yes, Scarlett?" He returned.

"Go away!" There was a slight tremor in her voice as she spoke.

"I'm here. I came back to hear you screaming like someone was attacking you." He explained. "Have the nightmares been so awful?"

"Just leave now, and I can content myself with the thought that you were a dream. But having you here, and then losing you again, it will be my nightmares relived." She said with pain in her eyes.

"Scarlett, I have no intention of leaving." He told her gently.

"You always leave. My life would have been better off if you had just left me alone, and left me as Frank's widow."

"I'm surprised to find that you can look back now... you never were one to reminisce."

"Why would I want to... either it makes me miss what I cannot have, what will never be again, or it makes all of my mistakes glaringly obvious, so obvious that not even I can dismiss them. And then the nightmares come..."

"Have they been so awful?" He questioned again.

She looked at him with trepidation, taking a moment to stare as if trying to decide if it would be more damaging to tell him or to hold it in. Finally she took a deep shuddering breath. "Oh, Rhett. They don't stop. Every night, its the same scene. I don't even quite understand why it terrifies me so. But I am running through the mist, trying to find something, but I never do. It's almost as if the night of Melanie's death and my nightmares have merged into one drawn out terror." She paused for a moment, her eyes trained on her hands, before admitting, "I don't know the last night that I was able to sleep through without one." She stopped, her eyes lifting to meet his."Yes, I do. It was that night with you. You make me feel safe, Rhett. I never understood that before." And then the angry glow returned to her eyes, and flush crept into her waxen cheeks, "But then you leave, taking that feeling with you, and I am more lost and terrified than I was before. It's easier to not have you, then to get a glimpse of what we could have and then I have to lose it all again."

"I'm not leaving." He said simply.

"How can I trust that? How am I supposed to blindly have faith in you, when the only people that remained faithful to me are gone? I know that I made mistakes, God help me, I know. But I didn't understand that you loved me or that Ashley didn't. I might have if either of you had ever really been honest with me."

"There are many things that you did not understand, my pet. But the truth is that I didn't give you much aid in that direction, either."

"No, you didn't. You were too busy protecting yourself from me." Her voice grew reed thin as continued. "Am I truly that terrifying that you could face the Yankee blockade, but you couldn't be true to your own wife?"

"Don't be a fool, Scarlett. It was my heart I was protecting from you."

"I was a fool. A sad little fool who gave up what I needed and could have for something that I never would have been happy with." It was a rare moment of introspection for her, a moment of clarity that allowed Rhett to see through the veil of her mind. But her anger was fading, as the exhaustion and emotional drainage began to consume her. "Why couldn't my life have been easier? Why did the war have to come? Why does it always seem like my world is caving in around my ears?"

There was a panicky edge to her voice as tears threatened to flow forward. And there was something in that vulnerability that reached into his heart and found those embers, fanning so that they flamed hungrily. Her wounds lay open, exposed for all to see. For the first time in the span of their acquaintance, not only did she need him and his strength, but she also seemed to welcome it, her eyes pleading for him to chase away the nightmares and phantoms. She had lost that protective armor that had so carefully guarded her heart from loss and pain. The misty veil through which she had viewed Ashley and her life before, had been torn from face, just as surely as Rhett had pulled away her mourning veil during the war, allowing her heart to be exposed to prying eyes. And in many ways, she was like a child again, like the child that Rhett had tried to save as he poured his love into Bonnie.

He brushed a tear from her cheek, as her breathing once again became panicky and gasping. "Shh- Scarlett. You are safe. Nothing is going to harm you now. I won't let them. I've got you."

"Oh, just stop. You'll just leave again in a few days. The past is never really behind me, no matter how I try to push it away. I'm paying for all of my sins now. I have nothing left. And I know that this is not the end of my sorrows. There will never be an end to my sorrows." Her tears were no longer weak, trickling things that slowly trailed down her skin, but they had become a tumultuous rapid boasting current that poured unceasingly down her face. "I can't do this anymore. I can't always be strong. There is no strength left."

Rhett gathered in his arms, and pulled her so that her head rested against his chest so that she could hear the steady beating of his heart. "I will be your strength now. You don't need to be strong. I will protect you."

In a pitifully small voice she argued back, "but, you will just leave again...."

"I'm not leaving. Your love, your willingness to let me go and take the time to heal, it gave me back my life, and I will be damned if I'm going to let go of you again. Do you know how long I waited for you to love me? Do you understand that? And then when you finally saw and understood those feelings, I was so numb with grief and exhaustion and the belief I would never have your love that I could not respond." He spoke softly and slowly, allowing his words to surround her and fill her with the warmth of them.

Her eyes, which she had squinted shut in an unsuccessful attempt to stem the raging flow of tears, now opened and peered up at him. "But you said that you didn't love me, that you felt nothing for me, but pity and kindness..." Her voice had seemed to linger and stress the word pity, as if she found it bitter in her mouth.

"Yes, I did say those things, and in that moment, I meant them. But the truth is that at that moment I could feel little emotion at all. The loss of Bonnie had seemed to take away all that was left of what made me who I was. I was no longer the dashing blockade runner, nor was I the charming Scalawag. And worst of all, I was no longer the devoted Democrat daddy. I no longer knew who I was, other than a man who had lost everything that he had ever held dear."

"But Rhett...." Scarlett tried to insert words, but to no avail.

"But I thought I had lost you Scarlett. I lost you the day you turned me from your bed. I know you didn't see, didn't understand how deeply that pierced me, but it was an arrow straight into my heart. I still loved you, but I knew that you didn't love me, that you weren't even attracted enough to me to turn away from Ashley's suggestion that you remain celibate for his sake."

Her eyes darted to his face. "But.... how..."

"I knew exactly why you were turning me out cold, I never held any illusion of honor for your dear Ashley. And little good it did for you to turn me out, for it seems quite obvious that he was not practicing the same."

A look flitted across Scarlett's face, as if for a moment the thought hadn't occurred to her. "I never understood him. I never loved him. I only saw him as a gilded statue that became in my mind an emblem of life before. And I wanted to cling to that time so desperately, even though consciously I tried not to remember. I was so scared, so desperate when I came to you in that jail cell. Rhett, you have to know that I had no where else to turn..."

"Scarlett, I wish to God, that I had found a way to help you then, I knew you were terrified, and if I hadn't been so intoxicated by your mere presence, then I would have known the moment I saw you, the moment I held you in my arms that there was something amiss." He gently picked up her hands and softly caressed the palms with slow, sweet kisses. "It wasn't until the anger at your deception that your spell was broken. There was a hunger in your eyes, the look of a half starved animal that would tear me to shreds if I so much as turned my back. I should have found a way though. I should have done anything, to keep you from having to marry another man that you didn't love just to keep a roof over your families heads."

She stared at him in amazement as his reassuring words, as if his words had the power for the moment to change history.

"I had every intention of being released and claiming you, though not as my mistress. And I wanted to kill Ashley for letting you come see me. He should have found something to do to rescue you, instead of sitting back and wringing his hands like an old maid while you came to Atlanta in dress made from your mother's drapes and offered your body to me for a poor man's wages for a year.

"Rhett, I don't want to think about it. I am tired of thinking about the past and all of those hard times and everything I've lost."

"Shhh-- Scarlett. The past is behind us. We can figure everything else out later. I love you, and you love me. It may sound naive, but does anything else really matter? Tomorrow is here. We can make a new life for ourselves. We have the world at our feet."

And she closed her eyes and leaned into his embrace, and he sighed as her hair tickled his nose with the soft scent of her. God he loved her. And tomorrow, and the day after, all of the days of their life spent together was theirs for the taking.


	9. Chapter 9

Night Before Tomorrow 9

She was comfortably nestled in his arms; her face streaked with tears that had dried in salty trails. And yet he had to break the silence. He needed to let her know how he felt. "Scarlett."

She sighed softly against his chest. "Mmmmm?" She sighed.

"Scarlett, I want you to look at me."

She pulled away slightly so that she could see his face. "Yes?"

"Scarlett. I should have told you this years ago, I should have confessed my feelings when we were first married." He paused for a moment, staring into the brightness of her eyes. "I love you, Scarlett,"

Tears again glittered unshed in her eyes, as she tried to confirm that the words he was speaking were more than simply words, that she had not imagined it all as her mind had contorted the reality of the situation with Ashley. She looked deeply into his black eyes, trying to finally decipher those emotions that she had never succeeded at reading, trying to wake herself if this was no more than a dream, a beautiful glittering dream. "Do you? Are you certain?" She asked.

"Scarlett, I love you. I want to prove it to you. I should have told you this, perhaps even during the war when I first fell in love with you. I should have told you when Bonnie was born, I should have told you years ago, allowed you to forget the notion that I only wanted your body." He confirmed.

"How can I be certain?" There was fear in her voice, anxiety that was barely being held at bay. "You remarked once that since I no longer loved Ashley that it was likely that I did not love you. You claimed that you no longer loved me... how am I supposed to accept the depth of your feelings or the validity to them?" She wasn't baiting him, there was a hunger in her eyes, a longing for the confirmation of the veracity of his statements. "Do you really love me?"

He stared at her, as if for a moment he was unsure of himself. He gazed at her, soaking in the sight of her, taking his time to give the right words to reassure her. "I never stopped loving you, not really. But I didn't even realize that myself. It doesn't make it right, but I was so completely devastated by Bonnie's death that I couldn't feel anything at all. I became numb to everything."

"I'm sorry, Rhett." Scarlett told him softly, her eyes misty with tears.

"I'm sorry too, Scarlett. And it's only now that I've had the chance to get away from here and allow myself to do some soul searching that I could see what the truth was. All of my emotions had been buried deeply under the ashes of the disasters of a lifetime. I had to heal myself before I could even realize and see what the truth really was. And now that I've had that chance, I want to make things right. There has never been another woman who has done what you have done to me. We were made for each other."

"Then why do we do such terrible, hurtful things to each other?" Her mind focusing on the events that followed Bonnie's death, of the accusations that she had hurled at him.

"We've said some terrible things to each other, things that can't be forgotten. We've done things to each other that we most assuredly not born of love." He said.

Her voice grew shrill as she cried out defensively, "I didn't mean it, I didn't mean it when I said that you killed Bonnie. Rhett, I'm so sorry. I was just so hurt that I lashed out at you, as if hurting you would make me feel better. And it didn't, not that that would make what I did right."

"Scarlett, there have been many things said that no one should ever say. I don't know that I can ever forgive myself for what I said to you right before you fell down the stairs. I've replayed that over and over in my mind, certain that if I had done something differently I might have saved you and the baby."

They sat there quietly for a moment, the tension resurfacing from the painful events of their storied history suspended between them. The hurt of a thousand lifetimes surrounding them.

"I was so happy." Her voice was very soft, very unlike her usual confident bravado. "I lied then. I wanted that baby. I couldn't wait to tell you; I didn't know how to find you. And I missed Bonnie. I was so excited to see you both home. But you didn't want me, and I said things that I regret – that I will always regret. If I had just been kinder, if I hadn't had to fight back... it doesn't matter. Looking back helps nothing." But it was already too late, for the tears were spilling from her eyes in profusion, fast and heavy like a summer thunderstorm.

"I think must look back, we must see the mistakes we have made. We have to know what was broken before it can be repaired." He reached out a hand and brushed away the tears, which were immediately replaced by more tears. "I was so jealous I couldn't see straight. Looking back now, knowing the truth, I should have realized that you were looking at me with love in your eyes, the very look I had wanted you to bestow upon me since the first time I met you. I don't know what possessed me, but your fall, was without a doubt my fault. And I'm so profoundly sorry, but words will never be enough to express it." He looked down into his hands, his shoulders slumped in guilt and regret and self-condemnation.

"Rhett, this is all your fault, nor is it all mine. We both made mistakes. We can move past that, but what I need to know is if you really do love me, or if you are merely saying it to please me."

"Scarlett, I love you. I know that the words won't be enough. I know that you have suffered because of me, but I want you to let me prove my love to you. I want you to grow confident that my love will not fail again, that I will be there at your side for the rest of our lives. I want to love you as completely as I loved our daughter," he paused wistfully. And they stared at each other in silence, taking a moment to remember their loss. But then he grinned, "but I assure you, I want to love you in a much different way."

He leaned forward and placed a searing kiss on her waiting lips. "Scarlett, I love you, but God, I want you."

She stared at him, still afraid of losing her tenuous hold on her emotions, but he didn't pull away. His lips were hungry and insistent. And as his kiss deepened, she could not help but respond. Hot tears prickled her eyes, as his hot, slow lips danced over hers. "Kiss me, Scarlett. Kiss me."

Softly, she sighed, and his tongue found its entrance. His tongue slowly caressed hers with infinite care until she responded in turn, dueling and dancing in a delirious dalliance. Her hands wound their way up his chest, until they were tightly wrapped around his neck, softly tugging on the short strands of hair at the nape of his neck.

Then Rhett felt the warm tears, trickling out, slipping steadily across her face and into her hair. "Don't cry, darling. Please don't cry." He crooned as his lips touched each tear in turn. The warm wetness glistening and clinging there. As if he was in that act taking each wound into himself, and freeing her from the torment.

"I never thought I'd get to have a moment like this. I thought I had done too many terrible things to have a moment like this. I'm still so afraid that I'm going to close my eyes, and you will disappear. Nothing that I have loved has ever lasted. Everything has always disappeared in time."

He lifted her hands to his lips, and placed soft kisses upon them, lingering kisses that caused the blood in her veins to boil. Then his dipped down and slowly brushed hot lips against the pale skin at the base of her neck, his tongue making slow circles in the hollow that lay there, sending shivers down her spine.

She moaned softly, for he was bringing to life a part of her that had only once been awakened, a memory of a moment that she had buried and repressed, to silence it from rearing its head and making her miss more about him. And yet now he was here, his arms around her, his breath warming her. She felt complete, and yet she was still needing something desperately – something that she knew that only he could give.

Suddenly he was gone, the warmth of his body, his weight pushing against her, his searing tongue and his singeing breath were instantly removed from her. She opened her eyes, her breathing quickening even more than his attentions had been causing, terrified that it had all been one exceptionally vivid dream, a beautiful dream of the life she hoped to have come true, one that would leave her with the makings of another nightmare to torture and torment her. "Rhett!" She cried out, panic rising and swirling in the air around them, as a child terrified when unable to find their parents.

But then his hand was lifting her, cradling her gently as it forced her to stand, and the cool air of the room dancing around them. "Shhhh, my Scarlett. I'm here. I just want to see you."

His hands slowly began unbuttoning the front of her thin nightgown as she shivered at the combination of his touch and the cold air. His lips softly caressing her as each button fell open, until the thin fabric stood open, inviting him to begin disrobing himself. "Rhett." she whispered shyly. "Let me." He looked into her eyes to find a longing that equaled his contained within the jade depths. Her face was flushed, her cheeks rosy with bright splotches of color gathered there. He dropped his hands to allow her this opportunity, watching in fascination as she resumed what he had begun.

Her small hands began swiftly, and yet precisely loosening his cravat, allowing her hands to glide along the smooth length of the material. He watched her with darkened eyes as her hands dropped and began swiftly sliding buttons from their holes; her small hands sliding under the fabric – cool against his warm skin. The mere meeting of skin sent tremors to his toes, like lightning leaping from her skin to his. That ember that had seemed extinguished not very long ago, now blazed, an all consuming fire that devoured him, rendering him defenseless against the onslaught of her feelings for him and his for her. Her small hands slid the shirt off of his shoulders, and continued working on his undershirt until his chest was bare. Her hands roamed freely, cool and yet scorching at the same time. She leaned forward, placing her warm lips on his chest. He could feel the moisture of her lips and her warm, sweet breath as they collided with his body.

She was trembling as she loosened his pants, allowing them to fall to his feet. She looked up at him, more completely alive than he had ever seen anyone. And without another thought, he pulled her roughly against. And then he cradled her softly, trying to allow some of his strength to seep into her. She was afraid, afraid of rejection and more hurt to pile upon her wounds. "Don't be afraid, my love." But it was more than fear that caused her to tremble.

He led her to the bed, joining her, holding her, kissing her while running his fingers through her hair. Pulling it over him, as though they were one, allowing himself to be lost in this moment of ecstasy with her, the only woman who would ever capture his heart.

They lay there in the silence, not speaking. Not needing to speak. Feeling united for the first time, truly united in spirit. Rhett's hand played in her hair, gathering it between his fingers, and allowing it to drape over his hand, feeling the silky length of it, twirling it in slow circles. Scarlett's eyelids occasionally fluttered down, so peaceful and contented that it was difficult not to be lulled to sleep by his gentle touch, but she fought against it, wanting to remember this moment vividly. "Rhett." She spoke his name with a soft rasp, revealing the exhaustion of the past months. "Can we stay like this forever?"

He chuckled softly. "I don't think that it would be all that appropriate, my dear."

She smiled, sensing in the teasing in his voice, noticing the subtle changes in his intonation. "Oh, you skunk. I mean the way we are now. It's so nice."

He drove his fingers deeper into her hair and turned her head to face him. "I hope it never changes." He offered before brushing her lips with his own. "If this is tomorrow, I'm glad to finally be here."

And Scarlett laid her head on his chest, listening to the beating of his heart. Her hair spilled over his chest, tumbling over him. And she closed her eyes and sighed. And she allowed the sleep to claim her, as Rhett stared into the stillness of the room, hoping that this would be how it was for the rest of his life. The past could not be changed, but tomorrow had all of the promise of greatness and perfection and beauty. And today would be the first day of their new life together. Today was all he needed.

The End


End file.
